


Interested in Lipstick

by mathildia



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1950s, Dom/sub, F/F, Forced Orgasm, Lingerie, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Fantasy, Reluctant Submission, Seduction, Slightly dubious consent, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Whipping, anhedonia, aslan is a fucking dick, cross dressing, elaborate fantasy role play, femme on femme, howard stark's weird sex dungeon, lipstick fetishism, mouth soaping, past steggy mentioned, power relationships, spanking as therapy, sweet tooth, unhealthy masochism, vintage champagne
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 11:07:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5454407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mathildia/pseuds/mathildia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She's interested in nothing nowadays except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in 1950. Peggy is 29, Susan is 22. 
> 
> Peggy Carter founded SHIELD one year ago, in 1949. 
> 
> Susan Pevensie’s entire family and some of her friends - including everyone who knew about Narnia - died in a train crash that same year.
> 
> Thanks to [Lingua](http://lingua-mortua.tumblr.com/) and [Molly](http://mollynoble.tumblr.com/) who told me this worked okay.

The cup chinked against the saucer as Susan set it carefully on Peggy Carter’s large desk, her heart rattling. Peggy Carter was sitting in front of her, writing fast notes and glancing back and forth at a huge stack of yellowing papers, dark hair falling in her face; she didn’t look up. They’d told Susan she wouldn’t. That she would taste the tea first before she’d even look at who’d brought it. And then, she’d only look up to tell you what was wrong with it. 

The first part of this pronouncement turned out to be quite correct. Peggy Carter lifted the cup with her perfectly manicured hand and took a sip of the tea that Susan had made so, so carefully, then, she set down the cup and, finally looked up. She looked younger than she did in photographs, her face slighter and her skin more luminous. She had more softness to her than Susan had expected. She wore no jacket, just a white blouse with pearl buttons, a smudge of ink on one of the cuffs. The room was dark apart from Peggy’s desk lamp, and in the light from it, Peggy’s blouse was very slightly sheer. Susan tried not to look.

Peggy’s lips were so red.

Peggy Carter watched Susan as she took a second sip of her tea and then she said, “I believe this is the best tea I’ve had in a while.” 

Susan dropped Peggy Carter’s gaze and looked down at her own cheap brown shoes. She took a breath, before she looked up again and said, “When they heard the accent, they said I should give it a try. Your tea. Apparently no one can please you, ma’am.”

Peggy raised her chin. “That so?” But she took another sip of the tea. “Perhaps that statement ought to be revised. What’s your name, darling?”

“Susan Pevensie,” said Susan.

“Susan.” Peggy said it slowly, looking right at Susan’s brown tweed skirt and bare legs. Susan wore no make up. “Where are you from, Susan?”

Susan shrugged. “London, I guess, ma’am. A few places. I was evacuated for a while. Quite a long while. In the end.”

“I see,” said Peggy and she wrote something absently on her paper, almost as if she was just finishing something off. There was a small tray of candies on Peggy’s desk. Susan had tried to avoid looking at them, but somehow she hadn’t quite managed. Peggy must have spotted her staring, because she said, “Would you…?” and proffered the tray. “Would you like a sweetie, Susan? A small reward for your diligence?”

“Oh, I can’t, really. I shouldn’t.” But Susan was staring at the hard candies wrapped in cellophane, couldn’t stop looking. She wanted one so much her mouth was wet with it. It was cold and dark outside, but Peggy’s window was open a small crack. Outside a car horn blared on the street, floors and floors below. 

Peggy smiled. “Rationing does rather stay with one, doesn’t it?” She took one of the candies herself and spun the cellophane in her fingers, the wrapping unspooling. The light from the lamp on her desk bounced on the dark red sweet as it spun and glittered. “I think there was a time during the war,” said Peggy, pulling the cellophane away, “when I might have sold my entire family for a taste of something sweet.”

Susan swallowed. “Well I didn’t do that, at least,” she said, softly.

“No?” Peggy popped the candy into her mouth. Susan watched the red, wet sweet against Peggy Carter’s red, wet lips. She was leaning forward a little. The pearl buttons on her blouse pulled slightly. Susan could see the shape of her tits through the slight sheerness. Peggy flickered her tongue over the candy as she held it, then closed her lips and pulled her fingers away. “You didn’t do that?” she said, the candy clicking against her teeth. “Then what did you do? Something else terrible? Have you been awfully bad, Susan? Too bad to be allowed a sweetie?”

Susan looked down, didn’t reply. This was not a question she knew how to begin to answer. She said nothing and the room seemed very, very quiet. 

“Do you need to bend over my desk, Susan?” said Peggy.

Susan’s head shot up. “What?” she said, leaving her mouth open.

Peggy leant forward further, blouse buttons pulling tighter. The sweet clicked against her teeth. “Oh, I rather think you heard me.”

“I…” Susan’s voice tailed off.

“If you prefer, you could come to dinner for it. Perhaps you don’t care to be spanked over my desk like some tardy servant girl. We all have our foibles.”

“What?” Susan shook her head. “I don’t… Ma’am, I…”

“Dinner it is, then. Jolly good. Be on your way now, Susan. Back to your station.”

*

Susan’s good winter coat wasn’t enough to keep out the cold of New York in January, but she liked to be outside. Susan hadn’t seen Peggy since she’d made her tea, two days ago. She wasn’t sure if her dinner offer was real or if she had just been teasing. Perhaps this was a joke she played on new recruits. However, just in case it was not a joke, she had found Peggy’s home address in her file and copied it into the back of her date book, where she had looked at it three or four times each day. 

She was considering pulling out her date book and looking again where she had written that address on West 57th Street, as she sat on a low wall outside the SHIELD building and smoked a cigarette. Her inadequate coat was wool. A lot of women wore fur in New York. She could never have afforded fur. And anyway, she would never. Never again. She pulled the wool tighter around herself.

She was looking down at the icy pavement when she saw the shoes. Familiar shiny black t-bar heels. Shiny shoes were sinful, her mother had once said, because of what they reflected. Sinful or not, she was surprised she recognised them. She didn’t recall ever studying Peggy Carter’s shoes, but she knew them instantly 

“Hello Susan.”

Susan looked up. Peggy wore a bright blue coat, belted tight and a matching felt hat. She had a heavy fur around her neck. Her lips were bright, bright red and her cheeks were too, flushed from catching the cold wind.

Susan swallowed. “Ma’am.”

“You’re shaking, you know, darling,” Peggy said. “Is it the cold or…” she tailed off, smiling. “You know, Susan, you really shouldn’t be so scared of me. Us English girls, we should stick together.” Peggy wore red leather gloves and she kept smiling at Susan as she reached out and took her cigarette from her fingers. Susan had taken off her own brown woollen gloves to smoke. Her fingers were freezing, but the leather of Peggy’s gloves was strikingly warm where it brushed her skin. As Peggy whisked the smoke away, she dropped her voice and said, “Really, whatever do you think I’m going to do to you?” 

Susan didn’t know how to say she that all she thought Peggy was going to do to her was exactly what she had told her she would do. Put her over her desk and spank her. That she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that. The exact sound of each word on Peggy’s perfect red lips as she had said, “If you don’t want to be spanked over my desk like some tardy servant girl.” That she had thought of that in her bed at night and touched herself, wet and hot between her legs, jamming her fist into her mouth so as not to wake her sleeping room mate. 

Susan watched Peggy take a draw on the cigarette she’d taken from her. It was only half smoked and Susan wanted it back. Did she dare ask? Was this a test? _You shouldn’t be so scared of me._ Susan screwed up her courage. “Ma’am,” she said, struggling to keep her voice level and even, “would you, would you give me back my smoke? Please. I mean, if you please. Ma’am.”

Peggy laughed out loud as she exhaled a long blue plume. It made Susan look around startled. But no one was paying any attention to them. When Susan looked back at Peggy, Peggy let her tongue tip out over her top lip. “Oh Susan,” she said with a little head shake, “here,” and, shrugging, she held out the cigarette, turning her hand around. Casually, she pressed the blunt butt of it into Susan’s mouth. Susan’s breath caught, but she opened up for it - and her lips shook as Peggy’s red leather fingers pressed into her skin. She sucked. She moved her tongue over the tip of the thing in her mouth. Peggy’s thumb moved over Susan’s chin, under her jaw and tilted her head upwards. Susan was hot, suddenly. Her face flushed as Peggy made her look up at her, her nipples pulled under her sweater and clit pulsed between her legs. She stared up at Peggy, as the nicotine rushed to her head and made it spin.

After a moment, Peggy pulled the cigarette away and took another quick drag herself as Susan exhaled, half gasping. Then Peggy tossed the almost done smoke into a pile of dirty snow. “I have to go Susan, I have a meeting. You’re coming for dinner tonight.”

And she turned away before Susan could answer, as if her reply didn’t matter at all. 

*

Susan Pevensie had few friends in New York, few friends anywhere anymore - truly, very little of anything. The employment opportunity from SHIELD had been surprising, but not unwelcome. She hadn’t been here more than a few months and she had spent those working and hiding. The hiding was pointless of course. One cannot hide from a god. He could find her anywhere. He might decide to snatch her away from Earth whenever he wanted, no matter where she was, or what she did. And was being snatched away what she wanted? Or what she feared. Perhaps both. Nevertheless, she felt safest at home or at work, for all the sense that made. This world, her world, was too strange.

Susan took the bus uptown in her pink damask flower patterned dress and she didn’t think too much about the fact that she’d spent over an hour choosing between the three good dresses she owned. And she didn’t think at all about the fact she’d decided not to wear any underwear with her best pair of seamed stockings.

Peggy Carter answered the door herself in red satin pyjamas and a heavy, belted blue robe. Her feet were bare and her toenails were painted the same red as her fingernails and lips. The sight of her dressed like this took Susan’s breath, but she held back any comment - gasping instead at the grandeur of the place. The apartment was incredibly lavish. Susan had been in spectacular buildings many times, but she remembered to express her wonder at the marble and rich fabrics, even though such things had once been familiar to her, even expected.

Peggy brushed off her comments saying simply, “It’s Stark’s. It’s embarrassing really.”

Susan knew who Howard Stark was. As she followed Peggy through the elaborate rooms, she wondered if Peggy might be his paramour, to be staying in his home. But she didn’t say anything. And it seemed wildly unlikely that Peggy Carter was anyone’s anything.

Peggy took Susan to a parlour. Heavy curtains were closed against the cold and dark and the carpets were thick. Susan felt her breath come a little heavier at the thought of what might happen in this room. Peggy closed the heavy double doors behind them with a soft clunk. Susan looked around to see her turning a key. The key clicked and Susan made a small startled noise that embarrassed her.

As she turned to look at Susan, Peggy looked amused. “Do you like this room, Susan?”

There were two big brown Chesterfields in the room, facing each other over a long low table set with ham and cheese and bread and something that looked like a ginger cake. Susan wondered if it might be acceptable to allow herself a small piece of that cake. There was a big, bright fire in the grate, but there was little light otherwise. The table lamps were dim, shaded with coloured glass. The rugs were red and gold. For a moment, as Peggy walked towards her, Susan felt like this room might be hell itself, but she said, “It’s beautiful, ma’am.”

“Howard Stark has a number of very interesting rooms in this apartment. It’s the reason I agreed to live here for him, despite the ridiculous size of the place.” She reached Susan and stopped, standing a little closer than was seemly. She touched Susan’s waist very lightly. “Perhaps I will show them to you later, but for now, please, sit and eat.”

*

After they’d eaten, sitting next to each other on one of the couches, they talked. Outside it was snowing and they spoke politely of the weather in New York, how it was worse than London and how they were both still surprised by this. Then Peggy went to the kitchen and made mugs of hot cocoa so big Susan gasped at them. She hadn’t drunk cocoa for months.

“So,” Peggy said as she sat back down, “If I may as that tired old question, how was your war?”

Susan took the warm mug from Peggy’s hands and said, “Strange,” hoping that would be sufficient. “Strange and long,” she added, when Peggy didn’t respond. And then, when Peggy still didn’t speak, just sipped her cocoa and looked at Susan with her big, dark eyes, Susan swallowed and said, “I’ve seen such strange things, ma’am. I can never be normal again.” Peggy was so close to her, their thighs were touching.

“During the war many people experienced things that changed them,” Peggy said. She looked over at the fire.

Susan made a noise. Maybe it was a laugh - a scoff - but it changed to a coughing sound. “I guess,” she said. “It’s hard to stop thinking about it sometimes. I need to live in this world. Not that other one.”

“I know,” Peggy said. “It can be hard. To stop thinking about the war. About what we all saw. Can I help? Can I help you stop thinking?” She put her hand flat on Susan’s thigh. “I think I know how to help you. I think you’ve been considering it. Rather a lot if I’m not mistaken.”

Susan paused with her mug just touching her bottom lip. Her face was red on one side from the fire. “Like?” she swallowed. “Like what you said, in your office?”

“Is that what you need, Susan? Do you need to be hurt? Punished?”

Susan looked down into her cocoa. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “Do I need it? I’m not sure what I need.”

Peggy reached over and lifted Susan’s chin, like she had that morning. “All I know, Susan,” she said sweetly, “is I know a lot of people, I have been close to lot of people who have experienced things that have left them, left their minds, in pain. And I hope you don’t think this a terrible liberty, but you are aware you will have been vetted, of course, and I have naturally read your file. I am aware of what happened to your family.” 

Susan shivered. Felt a tug of discomfort. She was always being watched now. Observed. Judged. She didn’t want this, didn’t want this now. And yet..., “I didn’t,” she swallowed. “I didn’t know you knew about that.”

Peggy stroked over Susan’s cheek as her other hand moved on Susan’s thigh. “Do you feel guilty that you survived, Susan? Do you want to be punished for being alive?” she said, moving closer

“No, ma’am,” Susan said. Susan knew why she was alive. Exactly why. He chose that for her. And perhaps he’d never tell her why, but she thought she knew.

Peggy pursed her lips. Susan stared ather her lips. Red lipstick. Susan liked lipstick. Liked Peggy’s lipstick. She was half distracted by it when Peggy said, “You know, Susan, ma’am is a little too much like the office. Wouldn’t you say?”

Susan shrugged. “I guess so. What then? Would you have me call you something else? Miss Carter?” Surely she did not mean that Susan should call her _Peggy_. Susan could barely imagine that.

Peggy smiled, She looked Susan up and down, slowly in a way that made Susan’s mouth dry. Peggy’s hands were still on her thigh and her face. Peggy moved her thumb over Susan’s bottom lip. “I don’t suppose, Susan, that you would care to call me _sir_?” Peggy dropped Susan’s gaze, shy a moment, and then looked back up. “I have spent rather a lot of time with military men. I have to confess, I do enjoy such an honourific. If only because, oh, if they knew, my darling. If they knew.”

“Oh,” Susan bit her lip. She hadn’t expected that and it had made her heart pound and her blood rush, made her aware of every bit of blood in her body. But it felt right; oddly, dreadfully right, the idea of calling Peggy Carter _sir_. It made thrill with shame. Made her want more, suddenly, made her wish she was naked. It made her wish she was naked in front of Peggy. Naked and on her knees. And - oh, yes, yes - crying. Crying and ashamed of how good that felt. Susan swallowed and said, “Yes. I’d like that, sir.” The word felt hot on her lips. “Thank you, sir.” And for a second she saw Peggy forget how to breathe. It was truly gratifying.

“So then,” Peggy said after a moment, a moment where both of them just breathed in the heavy fire-scented air, “so, would you like to place yourself over my knee, Susan?”

Susan was shaking, but she shook her head and whimpered softly. 

Peggy reached over, took the mug from Susan’s hands and placed it on the table. “I see. Would you prefer a command?” she said, and she was slightly breathless too. It thrilled Susan to think of it. That the thought of spanking her was arousing Peggy Carter.

“I might, sir,” Susan said quietly.

“Very well,” said Peggy, and her voice was suddenly harsh and nasty. “Miss Pevensie, you will place yourself over my knee right now for your spanking, or I will march you downstairs to a room where you will suffer some extremely serious punishment. Do you understand me?”

Susan was so hot and wet between her legs at that, she wasn’t sure how she managed to complete the instruction. But she did. She whispered, “yes sir,” and she climbed over Peggy’s lap, lying herself flat across the length of the Chesterfield. The smell of the old leather couch filled up her senses. It was a good scent, musky and dark.

“That’s right, Miss Pevensie, Peggy said as Susan settled into position. “Now.” And she, very slowly, took the hem of Susan’s flowered dress and drew it up over her behind. Susan pressed her face into the couch with shame when she remembered she wore no underwear. She could scarcely allow herself to hear Peggy’s delighted gasp as the warm air of the room hit her bare skin. “Oh,” Peggy said. “Oh.” She stroked a hand over Susan’s rear and Susan groaned into the couch cushion where she had buried her face. “Miss Pevensie! So what am I to conclude from this?”

Susan said nothing and then, suddenly, Peggy lifted her hand and smacked it down on Susan’s rear. Sharp and hard. It hurt. Susan yelped and wriggled. “I asked you a question, Miss Pevensie,” Peggy said. “What am I to make of this dreadful wanton behaviour? Wait. Actually don’t answer that. I will answer for you. The _only_ conclusion is that all your blushing and stammering is an absolute front for the fact that you are the most terrible disgusting little slut, desperate and eager to be spanked and spanked hard, is that right?”

“I don’t…” Susan’s voice shook. She was speaking into the leather couch cushion.“No. No, sir.”

“Oh, wrong answer,” Peggy said, bringing her hand down again, very hard. Susan yelled. One of her hands twitched. She was desperate, suddenly to try and cover her bare skin. Peggy must have seen the movement because she said, “Oh no! You will not move your hands, Miss Penvensie. Or I will have to tie them together. But you aren’t a child, surely you can behave.” Susan moaned at the thought of being tied down, hoped Peggy would do that another day. Would tie her down and stop her mouth. Would make her so helpless she couldn’t even beg for mercy. Peggy lowered her head a little and spoke in a low whisper. “Oh, I have had your sort over my knee before, darling. And I know just what you want, Susan. I know what creatures like you want. You really want me to hurt you, don’t you?”

Susan shivered. 

“Don’t you?” Peggy said, firmly.

“Yes, sir. I do, sir,” Susan said, burning with the shame of having to admit such a thing.

“Good,” said Peggy, stroking Susan’s skin. “Then ask for it.”

Susan stomach flipped at that, at the thought of that, the humilation of that. “Oh, I…”

Another sharp slap cut her off. “Enough stammering, Miss Pevensie. No more pretending.” And Peggy slipped her fingers down, between Susan’s legs. She was so wet there, it felt so good. Susan pressed her face into the couch and wailed. “Quite honestly,” Peggy said as she teased over Susan’s clit, “pretending to me that you don’t want this is an insult to my fucking intelligence, Pevensie. You’re slick as a sixpenny whore, you slut.”

“Please,” Susan yelled out, bucking onto Peggy's fingers, saying it all in a gasping breath, as quickly as she could, hating every second of how she liked this feeling. “Please, sir, please, spank me. Just hurt me. Please, make it hurt, sir. Really make it hurt. Make me,” she swallowed, “make me cry.”

Peggy slipped her fingers free and hit Susan so hard then that she jolted a little way across the couch. Those little chastising slaps had been nothing compared to this. This hurt so hard it made Susan feel frightened. Worried if she really could take this. The pain blossomed red and fiery. Susan screamed. She had expected pain, but the sting of it was nasty, cruel. And when Peggy hit her again in just the same spot. It was too much. Susan yelled out, “Oh, oh. No. Sir, please.”

She tried to lift her head, but Peggy grabbed her by the hair and forced her face down into the couch cushions so hard she could barely breathe. “Susan, that won’t do at all,” said Peggy, hitting her again, a little lower. That stroke still hurt like hell, but somehow jolted her clit and made her burn in two places. 

The next was low again, but harder, burned so much Susan kicked out and twisted her face to the side shouted out, muffled as Peggy pressed her down, “Please, please, sir. No.”

“Do be quiet, Susan.” Peggy’s strokes got faster and even harder. Susan twisted again and tried to get loose of Peggy’s grip on her hair, but Peggy was strong and held her firmly in place, face shoved hard into the cushions now. She kept her hands still as Peggy had told her, so she couldn’t reach back to stop Peggy or protect herself. There was nothing Susan could do but take it, yelling through stroke after nasty burning stroke. And even as she suffered like this, she found a dark pleasure in it. Not in the pain, which was too intense to enjoy even a little, but in the fact she was allowing this. Keeping her hands where she’d been told. Letting Peggy do this to her. Letting Peggy make her suffer like this. The humiliation of that made her begin to cry, jolting and sobbing out, “Please, please.” Peggy ignored her begging completely, stopping only to rub Susan’s burning flesh and rake her nails across the sorest spots, making Susan whimper and kick and try again, hopelessly, to twist away.

Peggy spanked Susan two dozen times before she finally stopped for good and stroked her, caressed the skin she had made burn and burn. She let go of Susan’s hair and allowed her to lift her head and breathe freely. Eventually Peggy slipped her fingers back between Susan’s legs. Susan moaned. 

There had been lovers in both Susan’s lives. Princely suitors in one, pale, thoughtful men in the other. She knew what this feeling was, building inside of her under Peggy’s fingers. She wailed. “I… sir… perhaps I shouldn’t, sir. This is not quite… ah-uh!” Peggy’s hand had slipped closer, fingers over Susan’s wet clit. Susan sobbed out, “No, don’t.” But still Peggy didn’t stop and she was building a firm rhythm now. 

“Shush now,” Peggy said softly.

“No, no,” Susan yelled again. “Don’t. Don’t make me. Please. I just want the punishment. I just want it to hurt.” Peggy’s grip on Susan wasn’t as firm as it had been during the spanking. She twisted away, hard, hard enough that she fell from Peggy’s lap, onto the thick rug in front of the table.

When she gathered herself and looked up, Peggy was staring down at her. “Susan? Susan, are you alright?”

Susan nodded. “Yes, sir, but I just want..., I just need punishment.” She said this with her voice as firm as any Peggy had used. “I just want you to hurt me. Please. I’ll do whatever you want, but don’t, just don’t do that. Don’t give me that.”

Peggy nodded. “Very well, Susan. If you wish.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware this chapter is full of dub con - whether that be warning or invitation.

Susan declined Peggy’s offer to stay the night in one of the many sumptuous rooms in Stark’s apartment. She refused also, the offer of a car home, insisting that the air was what she needed, although it was bitterly cold and her coat was thin. It took her ninety minutes to reach her place on Clinton Street, and ninety minutes to decide that what had happened with Peggy must never happen again. She had liked it too much. She had not expected being hurt to be such a pleasure, but it had, she had burned with it, and that would not do. He would never allow it.

That night, as if to confirm her suspicions, she dreamed she has stayed and that Peggy had taken her to her bed. Dreamed Peggy had kissed, slow and deep, her with those red lips, made her moan, teased her with them, brushed them over her own and laughed when she whimpered for more. She’d dreamed of them both entangled, soft and naked, limbs wound around each other. Dreamed that Peggy had pushed Susan’s face down between her legs to meet Peggy’s cunt, wet and puffed open with heat. Dreamed that after Peggy had let her press her mouth to it until Peggy had jerked and bucked with wound hands so tight and cruel in Susan’s hair she had yelled out too, that Peggy hauled Susan up and turned her around so her back was pressed, plastered tight, against Peggy’s chest, both their bodies slippery-wet with sweat. Peggy had shoved one hand, rough and fast into Susan’s wet cunt and starting rubbing there. Susan yelped, tried to move away for a moment before she melted into it, liquid, hot and helpless, needing to be touched. Peggy bit down on the top of Susan’s ear and growled, “That’s right, darling, that’s right. Let me take it. Let me have it,” as Susan whimpered and squirmed. Peggy jammed a forearm across Susan’s throat, making her moan and choke. 

“Yes, darling, yes,” Peggy said, still worrying at the ear in her mouth, biting down to make her keen, burning. “I sincerely hope your not enjoying this.”

“No, sir, no,” panted Susan, before her voice melted into a long, helpless moan, as she came undone under Peggy’s fingers.

But when she looked around, it wasn’t Peggy, _it was him._

Susan took care to avoid Peggy for most of the next week. Arriving precisely at nine and leaving on the dot of five. At a quarter to four, when one of the secretaries would be sent to make Peggy’s tea, she would be sure and be running an errand, or, if no errand was to be found, she would hide herself in the ladies room until the time had passed. She was just beginning to wonder if she would perhaps be able to work for SHIELD for the rest of her life without ever once having to face what Peggy Carter could do to her, when she got the memo asking her to meet Peggy in her office at her earliest convenience. As she read it her breath caught and she was hot between her legs, so fast, so desperate. It would not do.

But there was simply no question of not attending, so she put the meeting off as late as she could, telling herself she was too desperately busy to simply throw down her paperwork and run up the three flights of stairs to Peggy’s office. Even if she wanted to do so; _oh, she wanted to do so._

It was six, by the time she knocked on the door, half hoping Peggy would have left for the day - the young man who worked as her assistant was missing from the desk outside. But Susan was not lucky (not unlucky) and Peggy called, “Do come in, Miss Pevensie, from the other side of the door.”

Susan turned that handle and walked into the room with her heart right in her throat. 

The room was dark, lit like before by only the small lamp. Peggy sat at her desk, papers everywhere. Her blouse was blue silk and when she looked up she looked tired. The light from the lamp glittered on a few strands of grey hair at her temples. Susan had not noticed them before. Susan knew Peggy was only 29 - everyone knew. Peggy’s lips were red and shiny, almost wet. Susan tried not to think about lips. Tried not think about Peggy’s lips in her dreams. 

“Miss Pevensie,” Peggy smiled as she stood up. “Would you come over here, please. I have something to show you.” 

Along one wall of Peggy’s office was a bank of filing cabinets. Peggy walked over to them and opened a drawer. But, as Susan came over, Peggy slammed the door shut, grabbed Susan hard by one of her wrists and shoved her back up against the bank of cabinets, moving to press her body against hers, pushing a thigh between Susan’s legs. Susan gasped as Peggy said, “Oh, Miss Pevensie, at last. Now, wherever have you been?”

Susan caught her breath. Her cunt had pulsed hot as Peggy had shoved her backwards and she shuddered at the thought of pressing down on Peggy’s thigh, hovering just a half inch from where she pulsed and burned, already frustrated, for any kind of pressure. Peggy was bigger than her, a few inches taller, heavier all round and clearly, considerably stronger. She was holding Susan’s wrist hard against the cabinet beside her and Susan knew she had no hope of breaking Peggy’s grip. “I,” she swallowed. “The typing pool I suppose, mainly.”

“I see.” Peggy raised her free hand and it fluttered in the air as if she was thinking about touching Susan’s face, but thinking better of it. “You’re really wasted there, Miss Penvensie.” Peggy’s mouth was so close. “And I rather do think you have been purposefully avoiding me.” Peggy blinked slowly, smiled, showed her teeth.

Susan sighed and tipped her head back against the cabinets. It was dark where they were standing, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Peggy’s hand, still raised, still flickering in the air. Susan bit down on her lip for a moment. “Yes. I have.” Another swallow. “Hit me, sir,” she said, finally, on one quick exhale. 

“Miss Pevensie?” said Peggy. She was close enough that Susan had felt her whole body stiffen. “Susan?”

“I have been avoiding you. I should be punished.” She flicked her eyes to Peggy’s hand. “Hit me. Please, ma’am. Hit my face. I know you want to.”

She saw Peggy take a sharp breath, but it was barely a hesitation, before Peggy drew back her hand and hit her, hit her hard across the face. The smacking sound was like a thunderclap in the silent office, and Susan gasped as her head rolled to the side. She jerked herself down on Peggy’s thigh as a hot, needy jet of arousal shot through her - the pain sparked over her like coming back to life.

“Oh,” said Peggy, once, quick and then she grabbed Susan’s free wrist and pinned both of Susan’s hands hard at her sides in her tight strong grip. She took one steady, shaking breath, staring into Susan’s eyes and then she lifted her arms, pulled both wrists up above Susan’s head and pinned them to the cabinets there, stretched Susan up so she was breathless. Peggy pressed her weight against them and even a small squirm was enough for Susan to be certain she had no way of freeing herself. Susan moaned, her face still stinging. Peggy pressed closer, whispered, “Susan. Dear god, darling,” as Susan rubbed herself harder on Peggy’s thigh until she was panting with it. Hot and wet, damp through her underwear, knees like water and Peggy leaned close, licked once over Susan’s lips, and kissed her.

Peggy’s tongue slipped into Susan’s mouth and Susan felt a great wave of pleasure zip through her. Her nipples pinched up tight and hard. Peggy’s blouse had come loose somehow, some of the buttons slipped open. Susan could see the peach satin of Peggy’s brassiere. And she realised like a sudden shock that it was too much. Too much pleasure. This wasn’t right. She knew it. Knew it sudden and sure. _He would see, he would know_. “No,” Susan said into Peggy’s mouth and she tried to pull her face away, but Peggy’s arms were holding her too tight. She squirmed. “No, no,” she said again, trying, hopelessly to twist away.

“Oh Susan,” Peggy breathed, kissing over Susan’s cheek, her jaw. “Call me by my correct name, darling. You know what you are to call me when I have you like this.”

“Please, ma’am,” Susan said, jerking her wrists, trying to break Peggy’s grip. 

“No,” Peggy darted across, a tiny movement and nipped Susan’s bottom lip, Susan gasped. She couldn’t think. And then Peggy let go of her, let her wrists drop and Peggy’s hands were on Susan’s thighs, pushing up her wool skirt. “Let’s see how much of a bad wanton girl you really are, Susan. Do you need to go over my desk again for forgetting what to call me? I know you did it on purpose. Dirty and needy for pain like you are, desperate for punishment, as usual. Don’t worry, darling, I will beat you raw tonight. I know what you fucking need. I will have you beg me to do it, and then beg me to stop.”

“Ma’am! No!” Susan writhed. Peggy didn’t stop and something pulsed inside her at the thought of that. That she wouldn’t stop no matter what Susan said or did. That she had no control over anything that happened.

“You will remember how to address me,” Peggy said sharply as she stepped back and grabbed Susan by the hips. She spun her around, slamming her forward into the cabinets. She was so strong. Susan grunted. “And you will stop resisting me, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Ma’am,” Susan said and swallowed. “Sir. I don’t want this, sir.” But half her words were lost to moans as she felt more arousal flooded through her and pooled, hot, between her legs. Her hips rocked. She pressed back against Peggy. She wanted to stop herself but she couldn’t. She knew it didn’t seem to Peggy like she meant a single word of her moaned protests. She struggled to get her breath as Peggy’s hands went up her skirts again, this time into her underwear, skating on the wetness there. And she tried and tried, but all her protests were lost to bitten off moans of need, as she meant, oh she meant, to beg Peggy to stop, even as she was bucking back onto every touch and wishing it was rougher, that Peggy would force her more cruelly to take what she was given, then laugh and shove her to the floor; make her beg and sob to be touched at all. 

With one hand still working Susan’s clit, Peggy lifted her hair and kissed and nipped at the back of her neck. “No, sir,” Susan moaned again. “Stop, please. I want you to stop.”

“Don’t lie to me Susan darling. I saw how you were that evening at my apartment. You think I haven’t seen such a thing before. A filthy creature like you, bucking in my lap, arching into my hands, whimpering for _more, more, sir, harder, sir_. You’re not the first beauty I’ve had writhing like that in my lap, dripping filth from pain. I know what you want, Susan, and if you like it this way, I’ll make you take it.”

“No, no,” Susan sobbed, grinding herself on Peggy’s fingers. 

“Trust me, darling, this is for your own good.” Peggy’s breath was thick and heavy. “I will show you how much you want this. Frankly, my dear, right now, I’d like nothing more, nothing more at all, than to get on the floor right here, right behind you and possess you with my fucking mouth until you forgot every word you knew that wasn’t my name.”

Susan moaned. “Sir, please.”

“And you will take this Susan,” Peggy muttered, “and you will ask sweetly for more.” Peggy’s fingers starting pressing up into Susan, twisting inside her, gliding smooth on how wet she was. 

As she started to fuck her, and hard, Susan took a shaky breath, and said, more firmly than she had yet managed. “No! No, Miss Carter. No.”

“Susan?” Peggy said, her tone suddenly different and more controlled. Her fingers, slowing and then drawing away from Susan’s cunt. “Darling, if this is truly a little too much would you rather make a game of it?”

“Sir?” Susan moaned, twisting her hips to try and get Peggy’s hand back on her, whimpering when she found only frustration. “What sort of a game?”

peggy's tone was still controlled. “A game of pretend, perhaps. Have you ever played pretend Susan? You know—“ Peggy paused a moment and kissed the nape of Susan’s neck, “What if I were a pirate captain who had kidnapped you taken you aboard my ship for my use and pleasure…”

Susan moaned.

“….and you were an innocent princess I had kidnapped. A young queen perhaps.”

At that, Susan froze. The room fell completely away and instantly, oh, her head was full of nothing but him. She was on that voyage to Tashbaan, as Peter’s chattel. She was Susan the Beautiful and a piece to be deployed in the schemes of men. Or it was centuries later and she was crying to him after he’d seen her kissing Caspian, begging to be allowed to stay, or, at least to know she’d return here again. She was that scared child on that cold night, watching him die for her, sobbing, not knowing that a time would come when she’d wish him dead. 

“Susan?” said Peggy. “Susan, are you okay.”

Susan pulled away from Peggy in a rush, suddenly strong enough. “I don’t, I can't have any of this.” She shoved down her skirt. “You can’t touch me,” she said turned, scanning the dark room, forgetting where the door was. “Don’t touch me again.”

When she saw the door, she ran.

*

Susan spent the next two days expecting to receive notice to quit and with it, the withdrawal of her leave to remain in the USA. It didn’t come. She thought about what had happened over and over again. What it had meant. What she’d wanted to happen. Mostly, she thought over and over of going back to Peggy’s office, of dropping to her knees and begging for more - for worse, harsher treatment. For punishment. For none of the pleasure that made her weak and let him in. For Peggy to use her for nothing but her own whimsy. To be Peggy’s property and make herself safe.

But she did not dare do anything like that and, eventually, she wondered if maybe Peggy had decided to put the whole mess behind her and forget about it - when, that afternoon, she came out of a stall in the ladies bathroom and found Peggy standing against the wash basins

“Hello Miss Pevensie,” Peggy said.

Susan was frozen in the stall door. She gulped. “Ma’am.”

“I’m sorry to accost you in here, but it seemed simplest and I wanted to be discreet. I have here some paperwork.” Susan swallowed, noticing the official SHIELD forms Peggy was holding. _Ah, here it was_. “They are for a complaint for gross misconduct and misuse of power. If you would fill them in…”

Susan stepped forward and took the papers gingerly. She nodded. “I see. And then I’ll be fired? For gross misconduct?”

“You?” Peggy looked puzzled. “Of course not. Susan, the forms are _for_ you. To make a complaint against me, for my behaviour towards you the other day. You simply fill them out. I assure you, you will not be required to give salacious details. I wrote the procedure myself. You will not be required to face me either. I will not contest what you say and, I assure you, you will be believed.”

Susan blinked. “You want me to make a complaint about you.”

“Yes, Miss Penvensie. As you should. My behaviour…” 

“And if I did that, what would happen to you.”

Peggy took a breath. “I would hope I would be fired.”

There was a high window in the ladies room. Not much light. The walls were dark grey and the woodwork black. In the room, by the white basins, Peggy looked pale. “You didn’t,” Susan swallowed, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Peggy looked down. “I rather think I did. I am sorry. I thought… I misread things. But I do not mean to make excuses.”

Susan took a step forward. “You didn’t misread anything. Everything you did, I wanted you to do it.”

“Susan,” Peggy said, looking up, her eyes narrow, “Darling, what do you mean?”

“I said stop, but I didn’t want you to stop. Not at all. I liked it. Every bit of it. I only wish you hadn’t let me go. I wanted you to hold me hard and make me take it. I want you to make me do things. Even if I say no, whatever I say. Force me.”

Peggy bit her lush red bottom lip. “I am not sure what to say to you about that, Susan. You really seemed so certain the other day that I should stop. I should have listened sooner.”

“No. I wanted it. All of it.” Susan took another step, close enough that she could put and hand on Peggy’s hip. When she did, Peggy flinched. Susan swallowed. “Sir, it’s hard to explain.”

“Susan, I.” Peggy shook her head. “I am not usually so confounded by people but with you… what do you want?”

Susan took one last breath. _This was it. She had to do it. She had to do it now_. “Please, sir, I want to do what you want, whatever you want. To me. Please, you should do just that. And it must really be for you and only you. That’s important. I cannot have the things I want. I must not be indulged or pleasured. It’s dangerous for me to have that. You must swear you will do whatever you want with me, take your pleasure from me. It must all be for your pleasure and I must have nothing.” Susan looked into Peggy’s scrupulous eyes. “Please, you must swear I get nothing.”

“Susan, perhaps, if you wanted something like that we could have some kind of code so—“

“No! No codes." Susan interrupted. "I must have no way out. In fact,” Susan looked at the forms in her hands, her mind racing with a sudden and terrible idea. “I want it to be, I want it so that if I don’t follow your orders, if I don’t do everything you say, you will have me fired. Have me fucking deported, ma’am. If I don’t do exactly as you wish.”

Under her hand, Susan could feel Peggy shaking a little. “Susan, I would never—“

“No. Please. Say you will. Say I have to do it. Have to do whatever you say or I’ll lose my job.”

“Susan, no. That’s not really how I—“

Susan blinked Her eyes were wet with desire. She was desperate for this. This could work. Surely this would make him forgive her. If she could just… She bit her bottom lip and, watching Peggy closely, slid down onto her knees in front of her. She gasped as her bare knees touched the cold tiles. She was panting, shaking, staring up at Peggy and wanting and wanting. Peggy pressed her mouth closed. Her red lips a tight hard line. They were both breathing hard and heavy. “Please,” Susan whispered. “Please. It’s the only way I can. It has to be real.” 

Peggy was holding onto the washbasin behind her, her knuckles nearly as white as the porcelain. “Susan you would be completely—”

“Your slave,” Susan said, fast, “or your servant, instead, if that is easier. Whichever pleases you. You must own me completely, use me for whatever you wish.” She looked into Peggy’s eyes and saw them big and dark with lust. “I know, I know you want to.” Susan swallowed. “I know you’d like it. Remember what you said in your office: that you know what I want, that you’ll make me take it. Make me, please make me. Show me how much I want this, like you said. Sir, please, sir.” 

“That was different, Susan.”

“I’ll do anything. Sir, let me show you,” Susan put her palms on the floor and bent down slowly. Lowered herself down to the tiles and kissed the toe of Peggy’s glossy black pump. She heard Peggy catch her breath and angled her head so Peggy could see her mouth. She kissed the shoe again. “Please, sir,” she whispered against the leather. She gave Peggy’s shoe a little lick.

“Dear god, Susan,” Peggy said as her hips jerked. 

Susan looked up. “Please! It’s the only way. The only way I can. Make me. Make me do something now, something right now that I don’t want to do. So I know it’s real.

Peggy nodded once. Susan watched as her eyes darted around the room; her heart beating faster, desperate to know what Peggy would come up with. Would she hit her, maybe she would punch her, or would she lift her skirt right now and make Susan serve her, on her knees, her face pressed close, forced up into Peggy’s cunt. Susan could smell how wet Peggy was, she shivered, wondering if she would be allowed to press closer. Her mouth dry and desperate for it. Aching in her underwear, she ran her tongue over her top lip without thinking.

Peggy turned around, turned to the basin beside her and ran the water. She put her fingers under it, as Susan watched, then picked up the cake of soap and carefully lathered her pale hands, rubbing her palms over each other. As Susan watched Peggy’s hands moving she thought about how they felt moving inside her and whimpered, grinding her hips. When Peggy’s hands were both covered in a thick layer of soap, she shut off the water and turned to Susan, held her soapy hands in front of Susan’s face. “Lick it off,” Peggy said, her breath heavy.

 _Soap_. Susan swallowed. The soap smelled strong and thick. Floral and nasty. “Yes sir,” she said as she pressed out her tongue and licked a stripe of the soap from Peggy’s palm. It tasted unpleasant. Bitter and gross as it filled her mouth. She licked some more, unable to do it without grimacing. She tried to swallow but the taste didn’t go. Her hips jerked with the shame of it. She paused and looked up at Peggy, hoping that what she’d done so far might be enough. But there was still soap all over Peggy’s hands.

Peggy shook her head. “All of it, darling. _Fucking all of it_. Swallow it all.” And she grabbed Susan’s chin and forced her mouth open, shoving two, and then three, soapy fingers in and pumping them in and out, fucking her mouth with them and wiping the nasty soap everywhere, over Susan’s face and everywhere, while Susan sobbed and in a moment was begging her to stop - _please stop. Sir, please_ \- as she choked and and drooled a mixture of soap and spit down her chin and onto her good blouse. 

When Peggy was done, she pulled her hands away and Susan sunk down onto the floor, sobbing. Peggy wiped off her hands in Susan’s hair. 

As Peggy walked out of the bathroom she said, “I’ll expect you tonight, Susan. I’m going to hurt you.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](http://mathildia.tumblr.com/)


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